


Seven Days In France

by Trinkisme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinkisme/pseuds/Trinkisme
Summary: Just a short one-shot from my Dracolicious series on FF.   This was first posted on Tumblr as an accompaniment to a moodboard I made.





	Seven Days In France

 

Hermione sighed in grateful relief when she'd shaken the last hand after the meeting. This week had been a busy one at the summit she'd attended in France. Draco Malfoy had also been there; the two of them assigned by Kingsley to represent the ministry. She glanced at the blonde now as he gave a nod to the French under secretary to the minister. Once he'd left, they were alone in the conference room.

"Well, that's that," he said. "We could not have hoped for a better outcome."

Hermione smiled at Draco. He'd changed so much since the war. He'd pulled himself out of the rubble of his upbringing; he'd made amends to those he'd wronged. He'd become a friend; nay, more than that, really. Not that he knew that, though.

Just then, an owl appeared outside the window. Draco went over to retrieve the message tied to its leg. Opening it, he began to read; then he grinned.

"It's from Kingsley," he said in answer to Hermione's look. "Word travels fast; he's already congratulating us on our work here."

Hermione chuckled as she dropped down into a nearby chair. Slipping off her heels, she rubbed one of her aching feet. "He should; we worked our butts off."

"Still have mine, thank you very much," he quipped.

 _And so do you_ , he thought, admiringly.  _Thank Merlin._

Hermione Granger was no longer the frizzy haired, overworked third of the golden trio. That honor had been relinquished about a year after the war. Maybe it was the absence of doom hanging over their heads that finally caused her eyes to be opened, but when it dawned on Hermione that Harry and Ron expected her to continue her role as personal assistant to them, she told them they could stuff it.

Their constant demands for help and attention no longer dominating her day, Hermione found she had the time and energy to devote to other interests. One of the very first things she did was to care for someone who sorely needed it. On the suggestion of Draco himself, she treated herself to a vacation. Molly Weasley tried to warn her of the improprieties of a young witch traveling abroad alone, but Hermione turned a deaf ear. She arranged for a portkey that would take her to Rome.

While she was there, she got her wild mane cut into a short pixie style that brought out the loveliness of her heart-shaped face. Feeling deliciously light and free, she set out to do what  _she_  wanted for a change. Hermione toured the city, ate the best of local fare and woke up each morning to an espresso and a returning zest for life. After Rome, she'd apparated to Switzerland to finish out the remainder of her vacation on a walking tour of the country. Being out in God's beautiful creation soothed her spirit. Part of her former melancholy had been the war. She knew that. But now she was seeing how much of a drain it had been on her to be in two unhealthy relationships. She was determined not to make that same mistake again. The rest of her life was before her. She was going to live it.

Three weeks after she'd left London, she came back with a glowing tan and a new lease on life. One of the first things she did was to take Draco out to dinner as a thank you for encouraging her to get away.

"You didn't have to do this, Granger," he said between bites of steak. "You're allowed to be selfish every once in a while."

"I would have never worked up the courage on my own," she confessed. "I would still be where I always was. Ron and Harry's grunt. Overlooked. Unappreciated. Exhausted."

"Tossers," he sneered. "I know I can't talk, seeing as how I bullied you before, but everyone in Slytherin wondered why you put up with them for as long as you did. Even my mother, who was no fan of muggles back then, thought it abhorrent the way they took advantage of you." He put down his fork and leaned closer to her; his grey eyes captured her brown ones. "Say what you will about my father. I know what he was. But he treated the women in his life with respect. Even with my insane aunt (Hermione couldn't help but shudder at the mention of Bellatrix), he showed more regard for her feelings and welfare than the dimwitted duo ever did for you."

Thinking back to that evening, Draco knew he hadn't fancied Granger when he'd encouraged her to think of herself. True, when she'd come home with that atrocious owl's nest lopped off, he'd done a double-take; Hermione Granger was…...pretty?

 _Beautiful is more like it_ , Draco now thought as he eyed the witch in front of him.

Learning how to work with a former enemy hadn't been easy. Every day had cringe-inducing moments where he was forced to recall a slur, a mean-spirited remark. Her torture. His bigotry.

But they got through it.

Now he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather be around. Hermione in her fetching muggle dresses, always with a smile and sometimes, a wink for him. Stimulating conversation. Good-natured bantering. On weekdays they ate lunch together and their Thursday night dinner for two was an unspoken reservation they both kept. For a solid year they'd done this.

Now Draco wanted more. He wanted it all, actually.

He stared at Hermione, wondering if she'd ever give him a chance for a forever kind of relationship. She'd been hurt by Ron and Harry, but surely she was healed now.

Draco finally made up his mind.

 _Nothing ventured, nothing gained,_  he reminded himself.

Giving her the parchment from Kingsley, he said, "The minister is giving us a paid week off as a bonus for the work we did here." Watching her eyes sparkle in delight at that bit of news, he asked, "Want to spend it here?"

"Sorry?" Hermione thought she hadn't heard right.

Draco walked over to where she was sitting. Crouching down in front of her, he took one of her hands.

"It would be a dream vacation for me. But only if I could share it with you. Please say yes." For the first time, Draco knowingly allowed his heart to show in his eyes.

Hermione sucked in a breath; was she dreaming? She stared at his expressive face, his eyes so eloquently saying what his tongue found hard to form.

_He feels the same way I do._

She reached out with her free hand and timidly brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. They were as silky as she'd always imagined.

"Yes," she whispered.

She watched as a shy kind of smile she'd never seen before on Draco grace his features. His eyes softened.

Unknown to Hermione, her face was showing the same wonder….the same humility.

They both knew where this was headed.

* * *

When asked years later, they always referred to their vacation in France as the turning point in their lives. Not when they got their Hogwarts letter, not when the war ended, but the seven days alone on the continent. Seven days to cement the love that had been slowly building for a year. During those seven days, Draco and Hermione strolled hand-in-hand down the avenue des Champs-Élysées in Paris, enjoyed some of the many outdoor cafes, toured a vineyard at Bordeaux and sampled the various wines there, and while they were near it, went to Le Verdon-sur-Mer to enjoy the sea.

As each day passed, Hermione's heart fell more deeply into Draco's grasp. Her heart thrilled when he stopped and hand fed her grapes at the vineyard; when they'd gone boating, he'd held her in his arms while she'd leaned back against his chest, her eyes closed, feeling the sun and sea breeze work their magic on the two of them.

Draco was no different. Everytime a handsome young man eyed up Hermione, saying something in French that made Draco's ears turn red, it took all he had not to hex them. Each morning as they ate their standard breakfast of coffee and croissants, he wished their time together would never end.

The day before they were to portkey back to England, Draco told Hermione he was going out for a bit and suggested she get a massage while he was gone.

When he got back a couple of hours later, he found Hermione still in her lounge pants.

"Change your mind about the massage?"

She frowned, her bottom lip poking out in a bit of a pout. Draco thought it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. "No, they weren't open. I was by myself the entire time…..and I didn't like it!"

Draco wanted to laugh but then realized he'd never get a better intro than that. Pulling Hermione into his arms, he whispered into her hair, "What if I said I could make it so you would never be alone again. Would you let me?"

Hermione gasped. "Wha….."

Draco knelt down in front of her. With his long fingers, he fished out a small velvet box from his pocket. He swallowed nervously. "Or what if you had the power to keep me from ever being alone again? Would you do that for me?" His voice, so vulnerable and unsure, broke.

And so did Hermione.

Throwing herself into his arms, she whispered, "Yes".


End file.
